


Thinking Back to the Season Before

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Series: Proof [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: Alfred now has four boys to help care for. He has had to learn to navigate young boy moods before, and now he has a new challenge in front of him.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Proof [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944145
Comments: 51
Kudos: 448





	Thinking Back to the Season Before

When Bruce was a boy, after they lost Thomas and Martha, Alfred had to learn how to read his moods as carefully as he could, lest he offer the wrong words and get a door slammed in his face. He managed to teach Bruce that slamming doors was not acceptable nor the answer, but the wrong words could still garner Alfred the silent treatment for days or, worse, empty words returned in a flat, unfeeling voice. Reading Bruce’s moods became central to a peaceful house. The house was always too big, but at least if Bruce was talking to him it wasn’t silent. Now there were four young boys, Master Bruce on the phone talking to lawyers and others about the young boys, and the house was not as big or as quiet as it was a few days ago.

Now, Alfred was trying to learn how to read the boys’ moods as well, to discern what each boy liked or didn’t like, to learn which words worked on which boy, and to learn how to make sure each one got what they needed in a day. It was a bit like being a juggler in the circus. Young Damian was a vegetarian who liked puzzles and seemed to like to talk if something caught his interest but went very silent for long stretches. He was pleasant, but he turned stoic if he caught himself talking too long or being overly enthusiastic about something. It reminded Alfred of Bruce’s rapid swings as a child after Thomas and Martha died.

Timothy Drake was equal parts an absolute delight and a walking tragedy, and it was all Alfred could to keep from wrapping the boy up in a blanket and rocking him to sleep like the child he was trying to avoid showing himself to be. His giggles in the gym warmed Alfred down to his toes. Tim’s clear kindness and poise from growing up in this Bristol world had Alfred forgetting to check on him from time to time because he just seemed to be handling all of this easily. When his voice shook over asking about getting his things from his house, Alfred took an inadvertent step toward him and would have wrapped him in a hug if Dick hadn’t gotten to the boy first. Alfred wasn’t much of a hugger, but Tim was so deflated at the obvious dismissal from his parents. Alfred hoped he never ran into Jack or Janet Drake out in public. He may not be able to hold his tongue.

Dick Grayson was a young man. That was clear in the way he carried himself and in the way he seemed to be able to smooth a situation out with a few words and a hug or a shoulder pat. His smile, when it was allowed out, danced all the way into his eyes and out through his limbs. He was polite to Alfred, but clearly wary of him and his role in the house. Earlier that day, when they were alone together, Dick asked hesitantly, “Do you work for Bruce, really?” Alfred had explained, in as concise a way possible, that he had begun by working for the Waynes, and technically he still did, but he hadn’t drawn a paycheck like an employee in a decade, and was really Bruce’s business partner and mentor now, instead. Dick had smiled and said, ‘that’s nice,’ before offering to help with the dishes.

Young Jason was a closed book. Perhaps an overly angry, closed book, but Alfred refused to pass judgment on any of the boys, and Jason seemed to be in desperate need of acceptance and patience. Alfred took food to his room, invited him out into the manor, and nodded politely when the boy refused. Alfred had yet to see him smile, and more often than not his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He was going to be a challenge, but Alfred was looking forward to winning him over.

For now, though, Alfred was actually more concerned with Master Bruce. He had left the kitchen when Talia al Ghul called on the phone, and he hadn’t emerged from his study since, hours ago. Alfred knocked lightly on the study door, balancing a tray of tea and fruit while he waited.

“Come in,” Bruce called.

Bruce was angry, tight and coiled. Alfred set the tray on the desk and said, “What’s going on?”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment and then reached for the tea. “Talia wants to see Damian. She says that she wasn’t really abandoning him, that she was protecting him from her father.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Protecting him by dropping him on the Gotham streets.”

Bruce poured himself a cup and leaned back, holding the cup in both hands. “She says that it was safer than putting him somewhere her father might guess at, including with me. Now that he’s with me, she wants to talk about being able to see him and how we’re going to keep him safe from Ra’s. She says that we should move him somewhere else, like to a random foster home, so that Ra’s doesn’t find him.”

Ra’s al Ghul was a being that Alfred thought of with disdain and loathing incomparable with anyone else in the world. The man, if one could call him that, was a monster, and to think that the little boy giggling in the gymnasium was related to that monster was beyond Alfred. “Ra’s is horrible, but Master Bruce,” he trailed off.

When Bruce brought the boys home that first night and ran the DNA test on Damian, Alfred had expected dismay at the thought that he was a father, quite frankly, but instead, Bruce lit up. He lit up in a way that reminded Alfred of when Bruce would see Martha after she and Thomas had been gone for a few hours, or when he would be talking to Thomas about something he was learning in school – a kind of glitter in his eyes that had been gone for a very long time. When Bruce said, “He’s my son,” in a voice filled not with fear but with awe, it was like a knot in Alfred’s chest had loosened, one it seemed he’d been trying to untie for years.

“Surely you’re not considering sending Damian away,” Alfred said, stepping back from the desk.

Bruce stared at the cup of tea in his hand. “Ra’s is very dangerous. You know that.”

“Yes, and we know he’s a threat, but we can protect the boy.”

“What if he goes to school? If I want him to have as close to a normal childhood as possible, I want him to go to school.”

“Trackers, emergency buttons, and training, if I may suggest.”

Bruce frowned.

“You have Master Clark’s help, too, always. Young Damian will not be, as the saying goes, a sitting duck while at school. He’ll have protection. He has protection here. You do not have to send him away.”

“I don’t want to, Alfred.”

“Then don’t.”

Bruce chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face. “Talia wants to see him.”

Alfred sighed. His feelings toward Talia al Ghul were not the same as his feelings toward her father, but they were no less dark and angry. Bruce’s time with the League changed him in ways that Alfred could never forgive, and Talia had clearly taken advantage of Bruce in regard to Damian. His home would be sullied if she set foot here. However, “If you think it’s a good idea, Master Bruce.”

“I think maybe it should be up to Damian, actually.”

Alfred was surprised at Bruce’s insight.

“Would you mind sending him to see me, if you know where he is?” Bruce asked.

“Certainly,” Alfred said, and headed out of the den. He dropped the tea tray off in the kitchen and headed for the last place he’d seen Bruce’s son. The bedroom Jason has stayed in since the boys’ first night in the manor has hushed voices audible from the hallway. As Alfred drew closer to the doorway, Jason shouted, “I don’t care! I’m not going to the fucking library here, Damian. There’s no way he’s keeping me and I’m not gonna get fucking used to it! Just stop.”

Alfred was not one to listen in doorways, so he knocked on the door. “Young sirs, may I come in?” There was a scuffling sound, and then a chorus of yesses sounded from inside. Alfred pushed his way into the room and took in the scene. All four boys were sprawled on the bed, with Tim laying with his head on Jason’s chest and Damian between Jason and Dick. Dick had a book and Jason was grabbing for it.

“Come on, Dick. Let me see it,” Jason whined. His face was flushed, and Alfred reminded himself that he’d checked the boy’s temperature an hour ago and it was fine. Dick laughed and passed Jason the book.

“Master Damian,” Alfred said, and Jason got quiet, quickly. Damian sat up and leaned back on his elbows. “Your father would like to see you in his study. Do you know the way?”

Damian clambered over Dick, who tickled him as he set him on the ground and nodded as he giggled. “Yes! Dick, stop it!”

Dick stopped and gave Damian a playful shove toward the door. He brushed his dark hair away from his eyes and laughed. “Fine, Dami. Go see your dad.”

Damian trudged past Alfred and out the door. Alfred turned to the other boys. “I will be starting to prepare dinner soon, and I wondered if any of you would like to help cook tonight?” He used to make Bruce help with dinner, and it was a good way to get him talking freely if his hands were busy, too. He heard many a tale of middle school warfare over the stirring of a cream sauce.

Tim glanced sharply at Dick, who stood up and gestured back to him.

“I promised Tim that I’d give him another gymnastic lesson this afternoon, if that’s okay, Alfred.”

Tim’s eyes landed on Alfred, and he could practically see the expectation of Alfred ruining their plans on the boy’s face. “Of course, it’s all right. You boys have been working hard on that.”

“Jason doesn’t want to, though,” Dick continued, and the daggers of Jason’s glare were sharp, indeed. “Why don’t you go help Alfred, Jay?” he said, completely ignoring his brother’s look.

Alfred followed them like a tennis match, and the unspoken conversation happening was actually quite loud. Finally, Jason sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Alfred ignored the attitude and clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Why don’t you wash up and come to the kitchen when you’re done?” He glanced over at Tim, who was staring intently at the bedspread. “Master Tim,” he said, and Tim raised his head sharply, “Have a good time in the gym, but be careful.”

Tim blinked and nodded. “I will, thanks.”

Alfred turned and headed back to the kitchen, where he began pulling out vegetables from the crisper and pans from the cupboard. A few minutes later, there was the scuff of socks in the doorway. He turned and smiled at Jason. “Ah, Master Jason, thank you for coming to help.”

Jason shrugged.

Alfred pulled an extra apron from the hook near the door and handed it to the boy. “Have you cooked much before?”

Jason stared at the apron in his hands for a moment before he sighed and pulled it on over his head. Alfred offered to tie it behind his back, and then Jason followed him over to the counter. “I know how to boil pasta and make grilled cheese,” he said. “Other than that, it was mostly cereal and peanut butter sandwiches.”

Alfred smiled and opened a cupboard, pointing. There was a jar of JIF peanut butter. “I love a good peanut butter sandwich. If you want one when you’re hungry, please help yourself.”

“You like creamy peanut butter? I figured you’d like it crunchy, and the healthy expensive kind. My mom used to get this kind.”

Those three sentences were the most Jason had said to Alfred yet. “I do not like the texture of crunchy peanut butter,” he answered. “And JIF is just superior. Your mother had good taste.”

Jason stared at Alfred blankly for a moment and then wandered over to the pile of vegetables on the counter. “What are you making?” he asked. “Also? That’s a lot of vegetables.” He poked around in the pile and pulled out a bag and held it up. “What the hell are these?”

Alfred grimaced. “Please don’t swear in the house, Master Jason, and those are snow peas.” He pulled two wooden cutting boards from another cupboard under the counter and set them both near Jason. “We are making a simple stir-fry over rice. I have pork for everyone except Master Damian, but we’ll start by preparing the vegetables.”

Jason glanced at the cutting board and then backed up from the counter. “I’ve never done this before,” he said softly.

“That’s fine,” Alfred replied. He handed a small paring knife to Jason. “I’ll teach you. It’s a good skill to have.”

“Stir fry?”

  
“Cooking.”

Alfred showed Jason how to put the snow peas in a colander and rinse them off, and then how to cut the tip off of one end and pull the string from the shell, and Jason got to work with a determined frown. Alfred worked on the broccoli and when Jason finished the peas, he showed him how to rinse mushrooms (“They grow in what?”) and slice them on the cutting board. Jason worked diligently and Alfred caught him grumbling when he thought he didn’t slice them evenly.

“It’s all right, Master Jason. They don’t have to be perfect,” Alfred said gently.

“I want it to be good, though,” Jason replied, his head still bent down over the cutting board.

Alfred didn’t answer. He was delighted at how Jason dove into this task, and he was clearly interested in learning. A few minutes later they had bowls of snow peas, mushrooms, broccoli, and red peppers.

Jason grinned. “They’re kind of pretty to look at,” he said, gesturing at the bowls.

There was the boy’s smile, and oh, it was brilliant. “Indeed, they are,” Alfred answered. He pointed to the sauté pan on the stove. “We’ll cook them soon, but first we’ll make the sauce that will go over it, and I’ll cut up the pork.”

“Is this Chinese food?” Jason asked as he whisked soy sauce and sugar together.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. There was a Chinese restaurant in Gotham who used to give homeless kids boxes of leftover takeout if we were there at the right time. They went fast, though, so we didn’t get it very often. Dick likes it, but Tim’s not much for it. I bet he’ll like this, though.”

“I’m sure he will. I’ll have an alternative if he doesn’t, though. I usually keep soup and pasta in the refrigerator for lunches. You’re all welcome to those anytime. I do hope you’ll learn to try new foods, though, the longer you’re here. If you want to learn more about cooking, I’m always happy to have company in the kitchen.”

Jason was quiet for a few minutes while Alfred finished slicing the pork and then coated the two skillets with sesame oil and garlic. He was quiet while Alfred showed him how to stir the meat gently and cook the vegetables in the correct order. Finally, Alfred couldn’t help asking, “Master Jason, are you all right?”

Jason sighed heavily and stepped back from the stove, crossing his arms and staring at the floor. “You don’t really think Bruce is going to keep me and Dick around very long, do you? I mean,” he said, and then raised his eyes to meet Alfred’s gaze. “We’re older and not his neighbor or son and getting four kids all at once sounds really hard and he didn’t ask for us, and also, he’s Batman. He’s busy.”

Alfred swallowed and then knelt down. He reached up and brushed Jason’s long, uneven black hair out of his eyes and gripped his shoulder. “My boy, Master Bruce and I both know that you need a home and support just as much as Master Damian or Master Timothy. You deserve to have safety and a home where you can grow. Master Bruce is busy, indeed. He is not alone, though, and I will very willingly look after you as well. You are a brother to Damian and Tim, clear as day. We wouldn’t dream of separating you, but even if you were all by yourself, we would have a place for you here.” He held Jason’s gaze and when tears tracked down the boy’s cheeks, Alfred gently wiped them away. They kept coming, though, and Alfred pulled the boy to his chest and wrapped him in a gentle hug.

Jason gripped Alfred tightly, and his body shook with sobs until he finally quieted and mumbled into Alfred’s jacket, “Did we burn the food?”

Alfred chuckled and pushed Jason back a bit before standing and turning off the burners. “Not enough to make a difference once the sauce is added. Not my finest work, but more important matters excuse us both, my boy.”

Jason smiled and wiped his cheeks with his sweatshirt sleeve. He glanced at the vegetables and sighed. “They look really good. Thanks for showing me how to do this, Alfred.”

“Like I said, Master Jason, any time you’d like to help, you’re welcome in the kitchen.”

When they all sat down around the table a little bit later, Jason beamed with pride as everyone complimented the dish, even Tim. Bruce caught Alfred’s eye and nodded a thanks before he cleared his throat, and everyone turned their attention to him.

“I wanted everyone to know that Damian’s mother is going to be coming to the Manor tomorrow, but I want to assure you all that Damian’s not going anywhere with her. He’s chosen to stay here, but I don’t want to deny him a visit with his mother.”

All three other boys frowned, and Jason glared at Bruce. “You’re not letting him see her alone, are you? I want to be in the room. She’s liable to make him feel like shit for liking it here if the way she’s treated him in the past says anything. I’ll punch her if she tries to hurt him.”

“Jason!” Dick exclaimed. “You can’t hit Damian’s mom.”

“Why not? She ‘trained’ him by making him fight – and worse - at his age. I’ll bet she can take a punch, and she deserves it if she tries anything.”

Bruce pinched his nose and Alfred cleared his throat.

“She won’t try and hurt him, and if she does, I’ll take care of it, not you, Jason, but thank you for the offer,” Bruce said.

“I won’t let her hurt me,” Damian said quietly, and everyone turned to him. “I just want to tell her that being with all of you is better than being at the compound in the desert, and I want to tell her goodbye.”

Dick leaned over and pulled Damian into a hug. “Okay, Little D. You do that and we’ll be waiting to play with you when she’s gone, okay?”

Alfred stifled a chuckle as Damian raised his eyebrow at Dick in a very Bruce-like manner.

“I do not require you to _play_ with me. Perhaps you could teach me a handspring after, though. I’d like to learn.”

“You got it, Dami. A workout after your mom leaves.”

“Sorry, Damian,” Jason muttered. “I just don’t like her being here.”

“Thank you for your offer,” Damian repeated, and Alfred was struck again by how much he resembled his father in that moment.

Tim leaned over to Jason and whispered, a little too loudly, “I think I know how we can keep an eye on him.”

Bruce and Alfred both chose to ignore it. Damian deserved nothing less than protective brothers.

“Who would like dessert?” Alfred asked, standing up with a smile. A call of yesses followed him out of the dining room and into the kitchen. He pulled a stack of bowls down out of the cupboard and was not at all surprised to hear Jason say from behind him, “Can I help?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it's been a while! My kids dragged me down a Japanese Anime hole and that diverted my attention from this for a bit. I'm still working on this one, though! Thank you for reading it!


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